How many times in your life have you been called the B word?
How many times was it a man because you spoke back about the way he made you feel?
How many times was it a woman because we stepped out of our conditioned quiet ways?
The word bitch is always thrown at us to end an argument. It’s what people say when they have nothing else to say.
It’s fuelled with hate, and spite, and insecurity that a woman dared to speak her mind.
For years, I became quickly offended when a man called me a bitch. I spent years trying to educate men as to why the word shouldn’t be used just because a woman had a differing opinion to them.
As years have gone by, I have no longer feared being called a bitch.
I started trying to reclaim it.
If a bitch means I speak my mind,
if it means I stand up for myself and others around me,
if it means I keep my standards high and my expectations soaring,
if it means I don’t let a man stand on me and think he can get away with it,
if it means I fight for a seat at the table and for seats for all the other women,
if it means I begin conversations we don’t want to have,
if it means I stop accepting the bare minimum,
if if means I fight for women’s rights around the world,
if it means I raise hell,
then call me a bitch,
call me every name you can think of.
At least I know I’m doing something right.
After all, change never comes easily.